


Routine

by mizael



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3734572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizael/pseuds/mizael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today's weather is forty-four degrees fahrenheit, slight wind chill, lots of sun, and a seventy-five percent chance of Sakaki Yuuya tripping into Kachidoki Isao.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine

**Author's Note:**

> i sail this ship alone  
> single tear

Yuuya thinks routines are boring. What’s the point of them? There’s a cycle of get up, bathroom, try to look somewhat decent, make some silly faces, clothes, and then class. And then after class there’s rehearsal, work, homework time, perhaps a friend date, and then sleep. And when he wakes up again it’s rinse and repeat (of course, it sometimes changes depending on whether or not he has an outing, or if Dennis is ever nice enough to cancel rehearsal for a day, or his manager is in a good enough mood to let him off early).

Time goes by in routines. Minutes, hours, days, and then years pass. Yuuya has the same thing for breakfast everyday, so there’s no point in him not remembering what he had, and sometimes he likes having lunch at the sushi restaurant as opposed to the Chinese place down the corner. Same thing, little variations, not enough to keep him interested.

So, you know, routines are kind of, well, _boring_. It’s the same thing, over and over, day by day, repeat ad infinitum, repeat ad nauseam.

And then there’s Kachidoki Isao, star pupil of that one kung fu temple down the road, kinesiology major, who Yuuya sometimes sees on his way to class. He’s always in a routine--morning katas, breathing exercises, sometimes he has a book on a pedestal while he balances one leg on a pole. Active, toned, but studious nonetheless.

They’ve never talked.

Mostly Yuuya watches from a distance while he waits for the morning shuttle, and Kachidoki’s seen him, of course, because he looks over and then quickly looks away. Yuuya thinks it’s cute, by the way, how embarrassed Kachidoki gets when he realizes someone is watching his work routine. Yuuya admires his ethic, puts it into practice during his rehearsals, like Kachidoki’s judging him from the stands (or something).

And, as part of his weekly routine, Yuuya has to go grocery shopping (because his roommate won’t do it, or rather _can’t_ , and Yuuya has to feel sorry for him because he’s seen that pile of homework and yeah, he’s fine with grocery shopping). He throws on his jacket, laces his boots, and grabs the money off the counter--it’s eighty dollars. Sometimes it fluctuates, but he can do eighty dollars for groceries for the next week.

“Did you need anything specific?” again, a routine. Yuuya only asks out of habit.

“Coffee,” his roommate groans from his position on the couch. “Like, two tins. A large jar. It doesn’t have to be coffee but just. Caffeine shots. Buy Coca Cola if you have to. Might be cheaper.”

“Sure,” he’s just zipping up his hoodie now. “Anything else?”

“No,” the TV turns on.

“Cool. I’ll see you later, Yuugo.”

He hears a half-assed ‘bye’ before he shuts the door.

Today’s weather is fifty degrees fahrenheit, light wind chill, and a lot of sun. Not bad, considering it’s the middle of autumn pushing towards winter in Tokyo. Yuuya just pulls his hoodie a little tighter around him and starts walking down the stairs from his apartment building ( _better to exercise when it’s cold_ , he hears his mother’s voice in his head, _it’ll keep your blood pumping_ ).

So the shuttle bus is late by about ten minutes, nothing Yuuya can’t handle, and it’s fuller than usual (also nothing he can’t handle). He would take the train, but that station is quite a walk away, and why walk for ten minutes when you can just stand around in the cold for ten minutes?

Grocery shopping is pretty standard: Yuuya likes pancakes, so there’s the batter, and he also likes sandwiches, so there’s the bread, and Yuugo wants his caffeine and Yuuya isn’t sure he wants to lug a twelve pack of Coca Cola home but at the same time, the coffee is kind of expensive.

He flips a coin, it says coffee.

He’ll just forego his box of fruit candy, then.

The jar of coffee mix is placed into his basket (Yuuya cringes at the price), and he counts how much he has left. He still needs to get meat and vegetables, you know, because microwave dinners are kind of bad (speaking from experience, after Yuugo’s doctor yelled at him for not “taking care of his body” and Yuuya felt bad). If he budgets himself enough he could get some rice balls from the convenience store on the way home.

And that’s it? Cool, he’ll just hit up the fresh food section and go home.

\--Except there’s Kachidoki Isao, red basket in one arm, hip in the other, staring way too intently at the selection of meat behind the glass. The butcher is giving him weird looks (how long has he been there?).

The sight of renowned Kung Fu Master (trademarked) Kachidoki Isao grocery shopping is… strangely domestic. It makes Yuuya smile a little.

“Would you like a recommendation?” he asks, two paces away, and Kachidoki looks up in surprise.

“No--I mean, um, sure,” he looks cute startled, is what Yuuya wants to say.

“What do you want to make?”

“Soup, it’s good for the winter,” Kachidoki goes back to staring at the glass. “Warm, heats up the body.”

Yuuya doesn’t know too much about food preparation, but he does know, line one hundred thirty-one, act five, scene one, some play he doesn’t remember the name of but he had to read aloud in class (complete with acting and expressions, because he’s a musical theatre major and what kind of reading didn’t ask for that), _unquiet meals make ill digestions_ , and he isn’t about to flounder.

“Beef tripe makes nice soup,” or so his mother says. “With leek and chicken broth.”

“Beef tripe has one-point-two grams of saturated fat per three ounces,” Kachidoki responds almost immediately. “Saturated fat boosts harmful cholesterol. It’s not good for the body.”

He’s not good at science terms, or whatever it is that Kachidoki just said. He flounders. “But it’s good,” he tries. “It provides protein and… you don’t have to eat it often?”

“Hm,” Kachidoki looks at the harmless stack of white meat, ridged and flaky.

“It’s cheap, too.”

Yuuya sees his shoulders relax, and he smiles bright. He’s over in two paces until he’s next to Kachidoki and the martial artist _jumps_.

Cute.

“Half a pound of beef tripe, please!” Yuuya turns that smile to the butcher, who is very happy to take his order. Kachidoki only watches in silence.

Yuuya gets his order and hands the plastic bag over to him.

“What?”

“For you,” he laughs. “Since you can’t decide. I’ll pay for it if you want.”

His rice balls are going to have to wait.

“Oh,” Kachidoki hesitantly takes the bag, but he _takes it_ nonetheless. “Um, thanks. You don’t have to pay for it, I was… planning on getting it anyway.”

“Cool,” Yuuya just beams.

They head to checkout, but Kachidoki is apparently in a rush, because he chooses the shortest line and bags all of his groceries in a flash, muscled arms working at breakneck pace to shove food inside of large plastic bags. Yuuya watches him slide his card and then he’s out the door.

He pays for his food, and stops by the convenience store on the way home. Six hundred and fifty yen, the cashier tells him, but he’s pretty sure that was the price for that tripe.

“Thanks,” Yuugo tells him when he gets home, and the coffee pot is already gurgling by the time he takes off his shoes.

“No problem,” Yuuya says, sorts all the groceries into their empty fridge.

Yuugo stops looking at his coffee pot for a moment and raises an eyebrow at Yuuya. “Something happen?”

“What?”

“You look a bit happier.”

* * *

The next morning is a Monday, one that generally has Yuuya in bed for a little while longer than necessary. He doesn’t have classes until the afternoon, and it’s his day off at work, and (even better) Dennis texted him last night saying that their costumes needed some more time, so rehearsal is canceled today.

Yuugo is in the other room playing video games, because he can hear the shouts of frustration through the walls, but then again Yuugo has probably been up since--well, he probably never slept. Such was the life of an engineering major.

Yuuya isn’t going to blame him for taking a break.

He stays in bed for half an hour more, the clock reads eight forty-five a.m., and by nine he thinks he’s been in bed long enough. His first class is at one in the afternoon--he has four hours to burn.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” he sticks his head in the other room, piles of paper and open textbooks on the far desk, Yuugo lounging on a bean bag in the center. The morning routine.

“No,” Yuugo doesn’t look up from his small flatscreen. The screen shows his player character driving around town on a motorcycle and crashing into way too many street lights.

He didn’t expect it anyway. Yuugo only eats when he’s reminded. “Do you want anything specific?”

“Nah,” Yuugo’s player character gets off his motorcycle and walks into a clothing store. The customization screen pops up. “Anything is fine.”

“Okay,” Yuuya makes his way to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator.

In the end, breakfast is a small affair of bacon and scrambled eggs cooked with leek, which Yuugo eagerly wolfs down along with another cup of coffee, and Yuuya is starting to think that maybe he should have gotten another jar of mix.

The clock reads nine-thirty now. Maybe he should go out.

Yuugo locks himself in his room, no doubt to pile through the rest of his homework, and Yuuya just pulls on yesterday’s hoodie and boots.

“I’m going out!” he yells loud enough to go through the walls.

Yuugo doesn’t answer, but something crashes in the other room and Yuuya’s sure he heard.

And for nine forty-five in the morning, the air is pretty chilly. The weather report on his phone says it’s forty-one degrees fahrenheit, wind chill minimum, but not a lot of sun today. Yuuya wishes he could go ice skating at this time, but it’s too early for that. He can settle for a nice morning walk, though.

The neighborhood is quiet, most of the adults gone off to work, the children at school, and what leftovers are other groggy or else exercising college students. Like him.

Yuuya makes a circle around the block, and he’s about to make another when he notices the kung fu temple that Kachidoki Isao trains at at the far end of the block. His phone says it’s ten, so it’s not too much to make a detour.

He doesn’t even have to go in when the door to the courtyard is open.

There’s Kachidoki, shirtless at ten in the morning, forty-one degrees fahrenheit, wind chill none, punching the air with all the force of a raging tiger. Or something poetic like that. Yuuya isn’t really sure what to describe Kachidoki with, the way his muscles ripple as he heaves, sweat dripping down his face and chest, the wooden training dummy in front of him pretty beaten.

“Good morning,” Yuuya shouts from outside, and Kachidoki nearly trips.

“G-Good morning,” Kachidoki replies, after he’s composed himself from his previous near-fall. Yuuya laughs and invites himself in, though Kachidoki doesn’t look like he particularly minds.

“How was the soup?” Yuuya sits down on the concrete beside Kachidoki’s patch of grass, and Kachidoki just relaxes his stance as he goes to get his water bottle from the corner of his training ground.

“Good,” Kachidoki says. He seems a lot more stiff than usual (but then again, this is only the second time they’ve talked, Yuuya can’t say for certain whether or not this is ‘normal’ Kachidoki behavior).

Awkward silence.

“Why are you here?” Kachidoki breaks it. He realizes what he said and flounders a little, and then his eyes are on the floor. “I mean, not to be rude.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuya just smiles, highly amused. “I saw the temple, and I thought I should pop by.”

“But why?”

He actually doesn’t know. Should he really say something like ‘I’ve been watching you train for the past semester, you know, every day I go to class, and I really like you’ on second meeting? It’s a bit forward. _Too_ forward. Huh.

Would it hurt?

“I like you,” he says anyway, leaning forward until his elbow is on his knee and his chin is in his hand. “So I stopped by to say hi.”

Kachidoki _splutters_.

The sight of a grown man, shirtless, well toned and very obviously could throw him over the temple walls without any difficulty spluttering amuses Yuuya too much. He laughs, hands automatically coming up to cover his mouth but he’s so gone. Yuuya sits there and laughs for a good minute as Kachidoki tries to say something, but in the end there’s just more silence and the sound of Yuuya racked by laughter.

“D-Don’t joke around,” Kachidoki is back to doing some basic stretching exercises, face completely red as he refuses to look at Yuuya. It’s cute.

Kachidoki is really cute.

“But I’m not,” Yuuya has calmed, but there’s still a giant grin on his face. “I really do like you. I was hoping we could hang out more.”

The shade of red Kachidoki makes is enough to send Yuuya into another laughing fit.

He walks out of the courtyard with Kachidoki’s phone number and a promise to meet up later.

* * *

Their first date is a bit awkward, more on Kachidoki’s part and less on Yuuya’s, because he didn’t even know what to wear, and had _texted Yuuya about it_ like he was supposed to know.

 **From:** Kachidokidoki ✩  
 **To:** Yuuya  
_Is there date etiquette?_

 **To:** Kachidokidoki ✩  
 **From:** Yuuya  
_not really_

 

 **From:** Kachidokidoki ✩  
 **To:** Yuuya  
_I need to know. Is this a suit and tie event? Or are you okay with just normal clothes? Casual? Business professional?_

 **To:** Kachidokidoki ✩  
 **From:** Yuuya  
_kachidoki it’s ok!! just wear what makes you comfortable_

So Kachidoki ends up showing half an hour early to their meeting spot (a small cafe in the middle of Ikebukuro), dressed in a neatly pressed Chinese-styled martial arts uniform, colored the same purple as his hair, slit both sides from his thighs. There’s a myriad of buttons on it that Yuuya thinks would be hard to undo (maybe he should stop his train of thought there).

“You look like you’re ready to fight something,” Yuuya jokes as he runs up. Kachidoki splutters (again), and looks at the ground.

“I-I didn’t have anything else,” oh gosh, that blush is adorable.

“It’s alright,” he laughs. “Let’s go.”

Dinner is cute, Kachidoki is cute, and several times he asked Yuuya what he should order and was he paying and Yuuya just smiled through it all.

 _It’s okay_ and _order what you want_ and _we can split the bill_.

So apparently Kachidoki’s outfit is called a changshan, his favorite food is deep fried octopus tempura, sometimes he likes them with noodles, sometimes he likes them with soup, and he spends most of his time training at the temple. He doesn’t live there, though, and when Yuuya asked where he lived Kachidoki went strangely quiet.

That’s fine, though, it’s not like he needs to know everything on their first date.

“Ooh, we should get their ice cream special,” Yuuya’s plate is cleaned in front of him, spoon discarded on the napkin next to it. “What’s your zodiac sign?”

“Tiger.”

Yuuya laughs. “I mean western zodiac.”

“Oh,” and Kachidoki’s cheeks are flushed again. “I don’t know.”

“When’s your birthday?” Yuuya already has his phone out.

“January 18th.”

“Capricorn, then. Let’s get their Capricorn ice cream special!”

The waitress comes with a wine glass filled with a cute assortment of fruit and ice cream. There’s only one spoon, but Yuuya can make do.

"Say aaaah," he lifts the spoon up, wide smile on his face.

"Yuuya--" Kachidoki looks absolutely scandalized, face red and eyes darting everywhere but him (but in the end they just slide back). "Yuuya, I--"

"Do you not like sweets?"

"A little, but, I'll use my own spoon."

"Aaaah."

In the end, Kachidoki opens his mouth like Yuuya asks and they feed each other the sundae.

* * *

“How was the date?” Yuugo asks as he comes home, deposits his shoes near the door and shrugs off his jacket. He’s situated on the couch, remote in hand, curled up in two piles of blankets while he watches some variety show on the TV. Yuuya isn’t sure, but he doesn’t care either.

Instead he just smiles, walks over to place an affectionate kiss on Yuugo’s forehead, and disappears into his room.

(Yuugo snorts.)

They had walked around for a while, hand in hand around Ikebukuro, thirty-three degrees fahrenheit with no wind chill and no sun. Their breaths had come out in small puffs of smoke, a chance that Yuuya took to blow hot air on Kachidoki's face and he was so sure that the martial artist would just start steaming from the amount of heat on his cheeks.

And Kachidoki had walked him to the train station, maybe they talked about meeting up again sometime, which building are you usually in at Maiami U, and then kissed.

It was sweet. And soft.

He tasted like vanilla. He shook, too, embarrassed and unsure, but Yuuya had held him there until Kachidoki was brave enough to touch him, slip his hands around his waist. It was like some high school fantasy, kissing at the doorstep, lips trailing in tiny breaths around their face. Tiny eskimo kisses that Kachidoki had blushed at, too. Yuuya just smiled and smooched him again.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Y-Yeah."

Yuuya laughs, a soft noise that slips past his lips before he even realizes it. The memory of Kachidoki's lips on his own is still fresh in his mind, as was the awkward touch of it all. But he wouldn't trade it for anything.

(And Yuuya adds Kachidoki to his daily routines, small kisses here, a date there, maybe lunch together between classes. And he thinks, yeah, routines maybe aren't so bad after all.)

**Author's Note:**

> a tiger doesnt go roar  
>  _it goes squeak_
> 
> (weeps gently, sail this ship with me, and also leave comments--)


End file.
